


Mornings

by kkeet



Series: Doctor’s Orders [1]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, Felching, M/M, Rimming, Wilson and House have a system, slight praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkeet/pseuds/kkeet
Summary: Anonymous said:Can I please get some Hilson morning sex ft. bottom!House with either praise or daddy kink.House and Wilson are both late to work but they’re doing something important.





	Mornings

“Morning,” Wilson whispers cheerily into House’s ear and kisses his boyfriend’s cheek. His lower half is wrapped with one of their fancier towels. 

A half hour late to work and Greg is all but phased. It’s not as if they need him or anything. Plus, Foreman could use the opportunity after his big fail as House’s boss last month. House is only thinking this to justify staying in bed longer. 

Plainsboro has been immensely boring, especially for House’s taste. No outbreaks, diseases, not even an instance of probable cancer. Both he and Wilson return home at reasonable times and have actual dinners instead of takeout. They even go to plays. The mundanity of it all is nauseating.

It gives rise to something new and exciting, which the two of them cannot say no to. Needless to say, they’ve had a fun week. 

House sits up against the hard, mahogany headboard and takes in the pungent smell of freshly brewed coffee. He smiles back at his boyfriend’s ‘good morning,’ and crosses his legs, still keeping them covered with the fuzzy comforter James had insisted on not long after he insisted on being under it. 

Wilson places something down on the nightstand beside the bed, which House suspects is the coffee. His head falls into House’s lap as he rolls into bed and looks up at the plain, white ceiling.

“We should’ve painted it blue.” House looks down at him. 

“Awe, the white’s finally getting to baby? Finally driving him crazy?” House teases.

“No, it’s fine.” Wilson starts; House frowns. “But, this room feels too heavenly. I can never actually draw the willpower to leave it. The walls aren’t helping.” 

“I can give you hell, if you’d like,” The diagnostician wags, fishing for his boyfriend’s goofy smile. 

“Really?” Wilson chirps and sits up to face him. “Wait, who’s turn is it?” 

“Mine, Jimmy.” 

“Darn.”

Yes, they had a system.

Still, Wilson’s eyes light up with excitement, which startles House a tad. It also stir his curiosity. 

“Um, don’t you have work?” As if House cares about being late. 

“Don’t you have work?” House rebuts.

“I do.”

“We’d better make this quick, then,” House figures, soon remembering that he and his team are getting a new patient today, one that’s rad: really, actually dying. 

The poor guy is being moved from some lower hospital to Plainsboro for better care. After reading his chart the night before, House had made the prognosis from the comfort of his bed. He doesn’t remember exactly but knows that the patient is scheduled to arrive around nine; it’s eight. 

“Right,” Wilson says in that Wilson-y, half-questioning tone and reveals what he’d been sipping from. Not to his surprise, House steals the half-empty cup of joe and is gifted with the ashy, bitter taste of his favorite morning drink. Wilson goes out into the office, searching for the last bottle of Astroglide. Greg laughs at his ridiculous waddle as Wilson’s ass hangs out more and more before the towel falls. 

If you’re wondering why it’s not in their room, don’t. 

While Wilson ventures off to search for the runaway lube, House preps himself. He takes off his bottoms, revealing nothing but his bare legs and his baby-maker, both of which are covered in gray hair. It’s actually a sight to see. Wilson says it compliments his eyes, and well, he’s not wrong. House continues by removing his shirt and is suddenly welcomed by the soft touch of polyester fibers. He was right to say yes to that comforter.

A large thud sounds off Wilson’s victory.

“Found it.” 

“Great, now would you get in here?” House says impatiently; he may or may not be on his hands his knees right now. 

“Coming.” 

8:06

Wilson walks into the room with that same stupid smile and rests on the frame of the door to take in the view. Not only is House on his hand and knees. No. House is on his hands and knees, ass up, with his head buried into the pillows; what a view. And even still, House knows that Wilson is flaunting that stupidly amazing grin; he has a sixth sense for this kind of thing. Like when the birds start singing melodiously and he knows he’s had a few more Vicodin than he should’ve. Maybe that might just be common sense. 

“What?” House’s voice is muffled, but that’s expected. 

“N- nothing.” If they weren’t together, this would be the best blackmail in the history of blackmail. “I just didn’t expect you to be this eager.” 

House finally picks up his head. “Look, okay… do you want me to beg…?”

“It would be an interesting sight.” Wilson answers half-jokingly. He walks further into the room and places his soft hands on House’s ass. He gets a few thoughts of what he should do with it and eventually decides on one. 

House’s response is amusing and also arousing. 

“You know this looks like a porno gone wrong, right?” Wilson states the obvious.

“Yes?”

“I-” Wilson pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“That’s just my special charm.” House proudly faceplants.

Wilson just ignores his boyfriend’s comment and gets to work, kissing and tonguing at his hole, which results in the muffled moans of a Dr. Gregory House. The other doctor,buried in his ass, does not hesitate to make his mark. House doesn’t complain. Wilson’s tongue is amazing. The best part is when he–

“Mmm, wait, just-” House’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Wilson displays his ability to curl his tongue just the right way. Spit drips from his chin, but he’s too occupied to notice. 

House pants out an incomprehensible request. Wilson keeps at it. He starts to fill up with the pleasant euphoria that being eaten out brings. This makes it even harder for him to bite back the moans that push out of him or ignore the even more annoying hard-on that pulses from the fading notion of Wilson inside him. Both of which are reinforced by the fact that Wilson is inside of him. At least, his tongue is.

Wilson soon replaces his tongue, though. He starts with one finger, inching it in gradually. House’s ass tightens faintly, prompting Wilson to grab the bottle off of the table. He squeezes a bit on his fingers and goes again, managing another finger in. He curves them in and brings them back, which House can only respond to with feeble whimpers. The louder moans fade into more inaudible groans. The murmur that results is a comforting sound, one that mimics a soft purr.

He feels so incredible.

“So incredible,” House repeats himself, incoherently of course. Wilson feels the same but is more pleased by the sound that the lug is making. 

“Jim-” Another unwarranted moan stops House from finishing his sentence. It really does feel fucking amazing, for both parties included. 

“St- Stop.” House finally gets a word out. Wilson hadn’t expected it to be that one. 

8:20

“Why?”

“I want the real thing.”

“And what’s that?” Wilson’s pulling for him to say those words he loves. 

“Must I spell it ou-” Again, Wilson’s pace increases, pressing all the right buttons. House is basically being fingered by a god which is something new for our adamant atheist to swallow; he cannot get enough of it. He’s mush at his touch, and Wilson keeps telling him how good he’s doing. How well House is behaving for him.

“What do you want? huh?” Wilson begins losing control; it’s all second nature now. 

He wants Wilson to be inside of him, he wants Wilson to–

“F- Fuck me… please…” The wish was met with a tease.

“Fuck me, what?”

“You’re not actually going to make me say it, are you?” House asks plainly. 

He is. “Yes, I am.”

“S- sir.” House stammers, making it all the better music to Wilson’s ears. 

“Good, say it again.” Wilson really loves hearing those words. 

“You’re petty.” House fusses. 

“And you’re pretty.” He is, even now. “You’re also rocking back onto my fingers. Good.” House hadn’t even realised he was and is actually a little scared he hadn’t. Wilson only smirks and wraps his free hand around House’s shaft, stroking and squeezing it all at the same time. The pressure he puts on the head has it throbbing. House can’t even form the words that describe how terribly wonderful it all feels. “Go on. Or do you not want it?”

“F-” House is about to cry. 

Wilson circles his fingers, pushing further till House finally complies. “Sir, please.”

Wilson doesn’t stop immediately; he keeps fingering him for a moment and then, at his request, he slips out one of his fingers and then slowly the other. He taps House and gestures him to lay on his back.

“You're doing so good,” Wilson assures him. He starts toying with House’s hole, the tip of his cock, slotting it in partially until House is begging for the rest. Wilson’s words are soft, melting. House’s arms go behind his head. 

Wilson glazes his cock with lube and pushes deeper into House, who contracts around it and flexes, taking it in. The more House can take, the faster Wilson fucks him. He picks up speed and grabs House’s legs, using them both as momentum.

The purrs get louder. He’s back to panting now; he can barely keep down the noises that continue to escape. At this point, who cares if he does? Wilson doesn’t. He keeps fucking House and he’s panting too. 

“Harder,” House, lying on his back, whines out. Wilson doesn't delay to reward his imploration, pushing House’s legs back and pounding him. Harder. House whines; he can’t do anything but whine. Only Wilson could make him squall like this. Closer and closer to the edge. He’s going to cum. They both are.

8:49

The satisfying feeling of being inside House is enough to make Wilson shoot a load right then and there but he holds off. House, however, is begging to cum. 

 

“Please, Sir. Can I?”

“No.” Wilson answers simply, stroking House’s intensely throbbing erection. House winces, the pain being pleasantly unenjoyable. He slows, climbing and falling softly. Only to stop House from cumming. House whimpers and pleads to no avail. Wilson hushes him with a kiss. House’s stubble is damp, his tears rubbing off onto Wilson’s cheek. Their tongues dance and House can’t hold out any longer. 

“Sir!” House voices in between kisses. 

“You want to cum? huh?”

“Mhm.” He coos, nodding his head. 

Wilson’s stroke is harder. Legs up, the recipient can’t mouth anything but incredulous, high-toned mewls. “Please.”

Wilson denies him again, striking in one last thrust before flooding his hole with his a warm and sticky mess. He pulls out, his load oozing out, and kisses House again. House cups his face and kisses him back. When Wilson stands back up, he cleans House up, sucking the cum out of him. He starts to pull at House’s cock one more time before House starts to thrust his own load. 

“F- fuck, Sir. Please.”

“Cum.” 

House shoots out a spectacular load, painting Wilson’s chest with the whitish fluid. His legs relax and fall, and a feeling of contentment draws his face. Wilson kisses him. The remnants of swallowed cum spill out onto his lips. 

8:59 

“Fuck... Fuck.” That's the only word he can muster up out of his stupidly large vocabulary. The first one is because he may have just had the best orgasm ever, the second one is due to fact that he’s–

late

“We’re both late.” Wilson announces languidly. “We’re fine.” 

“Yes, but- dammit! That patient! I can’t actually let Foreman try to take control again; he’ll ruin me. Mood wise, I mean.” 

“I just ruined you,” sex wise, he means. 

“Shut up. Let’s shower so we can pretend to like our jobs.”

“I already showered. You’re such a brat. I love it.” Wilson’s, among other things, is ignorant to the simple fact that he smells of musk. 

“I don’t know what to say. The spirits possess me every time.” House motions a ghostly ‘oo-ba-boo-ga’ and gets up from the bed, licking his lips. He limps to his cane and grabs it, cum still leaking from his ass. They walk to the shower.

Pancake-y. Always Pancake-y. 

•••

The couple shows up to work promptly at 10:06. Wilson’s lead foot makes sure of that. No one questions why they walk in at the same time or why House still somehow has bedhead. He doesn’t try to fix it in the car before coming in. He doesn’t care. No one questions because everyone is either too busy trying to keep other humans alive or is in some way dying. The differentials room, A.K.A House’s office, is currently hosting his favorite three idiots: Blondy, Baldy, and Baby. They’ve already started today’s game of ‘why are they dying’. This time, they’re playing the deluxe edition, which has a bunch of new fun extras like Carcinoma and Strommes.   
Couldn’t be better. 

“What do we have ?” 

“Where have you been?” A worried Cameron moms. 

“I’ll see you at lunch.” Wilson walks to his office, the one without lube in it. Actually, no, this one has lube too. This time, the bottle isn’t already open. 

“Home,” House rejoinders. “What do we have? Y’know, I was thinking… trouble breathing, heart attack, nausea… simple, heart failure.”

“He has no history of heart problems, practically a perfect record,” Chase adds.

“And he’s blue.” House gives Foreman a confused look. Foreman hands House a picture of the guy’s hands. 

“Great, that narrows it down to…” House taps his finger on his chin. His cane hangs from the back of his chair and shifts over as he does. “I’m waiting,” He banters looking directly at Cameron. She blushes and looks back at the file. 

“Myocarditis?” 

“Good, how do we make sure?”

“We test it.” House fingersnaps, pointing to the door. Foreman gets up from the table, tapping his copy of the file on House’s shoulder. House, shifts in the chair again, looking up at Foreman. The light memory of Wilson inside of him still plagues his mind. “I want an Echo, MRI, and a full blood work-up. Distribute amongst yourselves.” House pops a pill. This time, it’s not for his leg. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Cameron asks sincerely.

“Uh... Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to work off breakfast.” House belches, covering his mouth with his fist. “Pancakes.” He smiles and watches her walk out. 

In the hall, Foreman poses a question. “What do you see in him?” 

“What?” Cameron knows what he’s talking about. 

“She likes the damaged,” Chase quips. “Simple as that.” 

“Yes, I love the abused,” She deadpans in response. Foreman just shakes his head and laughs. “The more important question is why he looks like he just got told Cuddy fell down three flights of stairs?” 

Happy, House is happy, more like giddy? 

If only they knew.

They pass Wilson in the hall as Cameron asks. He’s standing in the corner of the hall, talking to a nurse and looking at some clipboard pretending to work. He overhears their conversation and adds in an even more confusing statement. “Breakfast was good.” 

What the hell did that mean?

They knew the two were ‘friends’ together but not that they spent actual time with each other. Now, that, that, was weird. Anyways, they should get back to the tests. And House, House needs to stop rubbing his ass over his cane in the men’s restroom.


End file.
